Her finger stilled over the final curls and edges, the abrupt stop to the story. “How even in death, they will never be forgotten. That no matter how lost they may have been, how hopeless they might have felt in those last moments, they will always have a home. With me, with Valisea, and with our people.”
Serill leaned closer, unashamed of the tear running down his cheek. “What about these symbols?” he asked, pointing to the bottom of the slab.
Brela sniffed. “Fowke’s memory.” She swallowed the burn in her throat. “I don’t know his story, and I couldn’t give him a final resting place, but in his last hour, he was brave. Braver than most could be when in his position.”
The prince reached his arm around Brela’s shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. Not tentatively, but assured. As if he wasn’t sitting next to an assassin with a cursed magic.
As if she were an old friend.
Brela sank into the touch, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Serill. For so many things, but especially for keeping my secret. And… I’m sorry for the position it puts you in.”
His lips pressed into the top of her head. “I know. It’s been so nice to see my friend again, to see what you bring out in him…” He sighed. “Brela, he’s a good man, I swear—“
“I know he is. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to help him see it differently,” she whispered. “I want him to change, Serill. I know you do, too. But I also don’t blame him for the wall he put up after what happened. I doubt he can change.”
“You changed.”
“I kill the people who torture my people. In not kind ways.”
“You still offer him your hand.” Serill sighed softly, then fell silent. Until, “If anyone could change our fire breather for the better, it would be you.” Another pause. “Do you really think Oni was right about the mates thing?”
“Remind me to shatter Oni’s crystal neck the next time we see him,” she grumbled. “I…” Brela rubbed a hand over her heart. “I don’t know what to think about this tug when it should be a violent repulsion of our magics. Then again, nothing ever really makes sense in my life. I mean, I have a shard in my chest that infected me with shadow magic and a gods-damned mythical celvusa whispering nonsense words in my head.”
“Alei so’nim,” Serill hummed. “So’nimis the word in question?”
She nodded. “I’ve considered every word it could be. Daughter of the cursed, unnatural, enemy…”
“Did your ancient language have a word for the wall?”
“No, at least not directly. Ryia built the barrier long after we stopped using the language and switched to the common tongue. If there’s a word for what it’s made of, it would be buried by now.”
Serill nodded as they fell into silence, watching the clouds change color from the sunset. He sat patiently while she carved the symbols into the slab, then offered to get Elias to help her move it into position.
The prince didn’t come back up with her friends. Perhaps he knew she’d only want them with her. Perhaps he knew he could distract Cason from what she was going to do.
Farrah and Elias stood on either side of her, arms wrapped over her shoulders and waist. Supporting not just her duty, but her weight as she lifted a shaking finger.
Willing that itch of magic under her skin to stay in control, Brela drew the shadow along the first swirl of stone and told their story. She whispered the words as the shadow climbed and curled and twisted. Smoke and flame and liquid blazed through the symbols she’d carved, until the grave marker was alive with their story. With Fowke’s story.
And then she released those shadows with a wave of her hand, sending them into the night as black dust and ember.
“May you find your peace at last,” Brela breathed. Then, to her friends, “Thank you for being with me.”
“That was beautiful,” Elias whispered. “Thank you for allowing us this honor.”
Farrah hummed her agreement, then tipped Brela’s chin toward her. “Barely noticeable. I can’t tell if it’s darker because of the night or because of the magic.”
“I didn’t have to dig far for that power,” Brela replied.
“You’re stronger.”
“Doesn’t really do me much good when I can’t use any of it,” she mumbled back. Tugging them to the ground to stare up at the stars with her, she sighed and squeezed their hands. “So… Serill knows.”
“Serill knows,” Elias replied, his free hand rubbing the jaw that Farrah had finally healed for him.
“What are you going to do about the other problem?” Farrah asked.
Brela squeezed her eyes shut. “He can’t know. It’s better…” She swallowed. “It’s better if things just end how they were always supposed to end. He goes back to Aelstow and I do… whatever the hells I’m supposed to do now.”
